"dermal" poems
Albert had an ARTHRITIC knee
which gave him curry
The core of a BOIL is oft hard
to extract
Yesterday June experienced
a server stomach CRAMP
Too much dry weather
can cause the outer DERMAL layer to peel
Never read in a poorly lit room
for you'll have EYE strain
After eating spicy pickles
dad had bad FLATULENCE
Some twenty eight years ago
my friend Helen had her GALLBLADDER removed
They say that a glass of water
will stop HICCUPS
From end to end
our INTESTINAL tract is thirty foot long
On Sunday afternoon John
broke his JAW playing football
Some people have
very boney KNUCKLES
One of my work colleagues
is prone to getting LARYNGITIS
Colin suffers terribly
with MIGRAINE headaches
Sometimes people tend
to endlessly NAVAL gaze
A woman's OVARIES need to be checked
on a regular basis for any abnormalities
The PANCREAS secrets a hormone
known as insulin
QUININE once was extensively used
in the treatment of Malaria
Since my sister has put on weight
she cannot find her RIBS
The STIRRUP bone lies
within one's ear
Dan Aykroyd the famous comic star
has webbed TOES
Should you bump your ULNA bone
it may give you reason to groan
The VARICOSE VEINS is great aunt Ruby's legs
were very pronounced
Does anyone know of a good remedy
for unsightly WARTS
At our local hospital
we have an antiquated X-RAY machine
As tiredness and weariness sets in
one YAWNS quite a lot
****** ZOSTER can make
a person constantly itch
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 1:31 AM UTC
*Weaving little droplets of darkness into sub dermal layer
Pressing close but not too hard,assure each line's a stayer
Coulded claret brought forth from beneath
A work of art,to you I bequeath*
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 4:18 PM UTC
Perish the thought that coats
Our tongues with hard harsh words
Inchoate reaching beyond grasp
Scantly strum our plush stairs
Scaling arpeggios
To soft crescendo as hands clasp
Gently brush angel hairs
Like magnet and shavings
Draw forged iron from gorgeous shrouds
Cherish the touch that floats
Like snowflakes whispering
In hushed descent from secret clouds
I will hold you in my mind
I will hold you in my arms
I will hold you in my time
You will hold me with your charms
I will take care of your memory
You will take care of my heart
I will keep you in my thoughts
Whether together or apart
Saintly calm amid storms
Whose roil-released crystals
On sprinkled tongues and cheeks alight
Enlace the fringe that frilled
Our sheer contours' luster
Emerging from dark thunder bright
Embrace the mists that build
Like cotton enfolding
Cumulative nimble and fond
Faintly kiss dermal forms
Like ghost lovers made flesh
Coaxed tumescent from far beyond
I will hold you in my mind
I will hold you in my arms
I will hold you in my time
You will hold me with your charms
I will take care of your memory
You will take care of my heart
I will keep you in my thoughts
Whether together or apart
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 2:48 PM UTC
frozen fallout shelter housing dried goods and tinder
black bean and rice prepper bent on the end of days
looking first to the sky and then to the government
absorbing radiation and propaganda
faster than organic apple juice can flush the system
triple berry blast yogurt smoothie shakes violently
in hands coated with Lyme and the scent of the non-believers
bodies unburied lead only to disease and discomfort
stench filled landscape harboring mutated mankind
arms outstretched seeking normalcy and edible grains
contaminated meat from damaged cans sits unprotected
thin and frail lithosphere no longer preventing dermal cancer
only encouraging drought and famine while burning retinas and emaciating newborns
procreation as a plan of self-destruction and child-abuse
distant smokestacks, cracked, create a forlorn skyline
instilling visuals from days gone by
of easy life and happy youngsters
before the nuclear discovery
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC
I float outside of my body,
a dermal prison dented into the ground,
doomed to never fly and never float
and never travel beyond the sound.
My brain moves faster than a
high speed train,
cars in the fast lane,
the pounding of the rain,
sane,
sane--
I've gone insane.
It's infuriating
this
plastic mind,
soul,
body,
all disposable and
all utterly insignificant.
I know the fate of history
and the destiny of humanity--
we are temporary,
a dream stuck on a floating grain
in the misty seas of the cosmos,
swirling towards a black death
darker than any night or
any universe could be.
We are a fleeting thought
caught within the arms and tendrils of the galaxy,
draining into an immense
super massive
black hole--
the drain at the bottom.
We are accidents,
sad ones, at that.
The stars formed randomly from
the collisions and crashes of
millions of atoms,
perhaps themselves
the containers of still sadder
and more pathetic universes.
From this early crib
Sol and his brothers drifted throughout the blackness of space,
most dying and
the mediocre remaining.
This is the fate of humans
and indeed all of existence:
that the interesting
the beautiful
the bizarre and
the intense shall all perish
while the average shall
survive, stuck on their tracks
and predetermined paths,
lines laid out by the random assortment
of atoms, of particles
of the refuse of the universe.
We formed from the cosmos' ****
an explosion erupted from
the backend of existence
and out flowed reds and greens
helium and hydrogen
and burning water.
As the planets formed
from the wake of the exhaust
and the stars migrated to their final resting places,
the elements continued bumping
and colliding and crashing
until green ran the continents of countless and
insignificant planets, residents sticking roots down
and extending towards the mediocre light
of a wholly average Sun.
From this green and blue sea sprang forth
a multitude of parasites,
feeding off the grasses and the ferns,
the flowers and the moss,
warring and ******** and
laying their own universes down out of
their backends.
We are the **** of **** that ***** out **** to
power our **** and allow us to ****
which in turns ***** the ****
to ****
It's all ****
Existence is ****
Existence is ****
I am a dream in the mind of one
floating off into my dimension,
moving faster than sound,
light,
actions and existence
to cross the cosmic walls and
climb the galactic ivy
to reach out and say,
"I was here. I mattered."
I wish I could comfort them in my arms
to pet them and tell them it's all okay,
that they matter, but I know the fate of history
and the destiny of humanity--
existence is the most interesting thing we can do,
and even that is based on mediocre ****
Jun 1, 2012
Jun 1, 2012 at 2:03 AM UTC
they say home is where the heart is
well my heart sits inside this
war-torn body going through the motions
breathe in
breathe out
smile
suture together the gaping hole
that screams from the center of my mass
tugging on the ragged edges
trying to fold in on myself
my own ouroboros
subsisting off my own flesh
eating my muscles
a supernova collapsing with a crushing
blow that rattles my bones
and reverberates through my heart.
so this is home
the lodging where my
beaten soul and battered consciousness
have wiped away the dust
taken the sheets off the unused furniture
and curled up with their feet tucked up
underneath their body
paying no attention to the
leaky roof
pitter patter of water droplets
heavy with the chaos and ire
of the outside world
as they land definitively in pots and pans
littered throughout my body
lingering in my liver and
sopping up moisture that springs
traitorously into my eyes
burns straight through my retinas
and reminds me of my weakness.
how can i be my own big bad wolf?
alternating between a warm bed
and hearty meals that
bode a bountiful harvest
suddenly replaced by howling wind
and razor sharp rain drops
cutting into my skin
and i welcome it.
i let myself be cut to ribbons
until all that remains is
shredded flesh clinging precariously
to ivory bone
hanging by a thread
an elephant at the edge of a cliff
tail tied to a dandelion.
i relish the destruction
in razing my corporeal temple to the ground
reducing myself to ash
and scattering to every edge of the earth
until I burst forth from this atmosphere
this geological prison
my dermal incarceration
and fly as star stuff
to become a distant universe
for didn’t the liquid power of the stars
always run through my veins
an oil fire burning higher and higher
until the black acrid smoke
consumed the entire world
and absorbed the sun’s rays
to bring about a never-ending night.
close my eyes.
it doesn’t matter if it’s dark outside.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 1:51 PM UTC
I need movement,
I need action.
I called you up
For a quick ****
Wanted sweet fluids
To run over my skin,
To flow into my pores
And pass through my veins.
I wanted to bleed experience,
To think in sensory images.
So
I called you up
For a quick ****
Wished for heavy pounding
To drown out my paranoia
And all my insecurity.
I realize that this bed
Can not hold
All of my being,
For I extend
Far past my
Dermal prison.
I am the mind's
****** aura,
Reaching out with
Many feathered tentacles
To tickle your chin,
your chest,
under your belly,
between the thighs.
So
I called you up
For a quick ****
I hope you realize
That you need to use protection,
as **** can not hold
All of your being,
Extending far out
And into me,
To soak
Into my skin,
Sink through
My pores,
And run
Inside of my veins,
Your sanguine fluids
Like solid,
Salty tears
Pumping throughout
My body and
Coming back
To my heart.
Sep 14, 2012
Sep 14, 2012 at 12:21 PM UTC
Unless dermal standards myelate solely willingly, energy tangentially gullies into uric membranes, orbitally, eventually.
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 12:34 AM UTC
I hope you suffer,
wounds deeper than
emotional scars beneath the dermal layer.
You're truely not worth the air,
you consume.
A zealot. Heretic turned holy.
An abomination hiding behind closet alcoholism.
I'd hate to be your liver.
Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 6:34 AM UTC
Today I caught myself watching the clock, tirelessly counting
seconds, minutes, and moments; for in that short time it was clear,
I am here.
But how much of me?
The blood coursing through my veins, feeding my flesh,
feels thick and real; but is it just a projection, my perception
of BEING?
Could it be that my outward senses are nothing more than
a coping mechanism, a tether if you will,
meant to keep my mind still and my body grounded?
When released from my dermal prison, will my consciousness escape me,
or will it rise up free with no boundary?
Perhaps we are sturdy and real, something I can feel,
something to grasp.
Or, perchance, we’re merely a cloud of energized matter, buzzing madly
through time and through space.
An imaginary face, nothing more.
Although the latter leaves a bittersweet taste on my fictitious tongue,
now to me it is clear. This isn’t so much a poem about
Clarity,
as it is a poem about questions.
Question.
Because if the cold ceased to bite, and the bee never stung,
would I be someTHING, or would I be someONE?
Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 8:38 PM UTC
The layers peel
With a severe ease
Sub-dermal lament rides
Desire
Peeling
Cracking drafts of promises
Too familiar, too simple
Latent memory unveiled
Need
Peeling, peeling
Like dead skin from a sunburned thigh.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 5:12 PM UTC
i’m 13 and my first kiss is from a boy named nick behind ***** sporting goods in stale street air. nick’s canadian and when i ask if he can speak french he says no but I can play hockey and that is the next best thing
a week prior when i tell lauren we’ve been dating seven months and haven’t kissed yet she can’t believe it but all i believe is i’m 13 and a first kiss was supposed to be so special
so special i am too scared to close my eyes so my first kiss is a waterfront view of spider-leg eyelashes, too much spit, and all nick.
two weeks later he calls me cherry and i call him kiwi because we think normal pet names are too mainstream.
three weeks later nick breaks up with me when i corner him by the west wing lockers in the middle school by english class. i confront him, lay out the facts, and that is that.
i’m 14 and my second kiss is by the bleachers at the high school football game – not behind because behind the bleachers is where kids go for second base and to form ****** lips around leaf sweet smoke.
i‘m 14 and my second kiss is still nick but it’s not all spit and i wonder who he’s been kissing
i’m 14 and my second kiss is to the melody of a collective crowd’s stamping feet and a boy named jared with no real teeth wolf-whistling at us from the corner
i’m 14 and i remember to close my eyes
i’m 15 and grind on levi who’s twice my height to a rihanna song at homecoming
his crotch is against my upper back when it should be against my ***
he doesn’t kiss me, drops me off, speeds away in his oldsmobile
i’m 17 and my first **** is with a man named dan who serves at the same restaurant i smile at and hand menus out for tips. i’m his twenty-third and for a while after 23 is my favorite number
i’m 17 and i’m bleeding on dan’s brother’s sheets
i’m 17 and afterwards dan sleeps with a girl named stephanie who probably ***** better than me. i got my ears pierced at claire's last year but stephanie has tattoos between her **** and a dermal.
i’m 20 and barely flinch when i see nick at the local community college. i ask if he still plays hockey and he asks me what good books i’ve read lately and i wonder if he’s any good in bed.
i’m 22 and i’ve laid with a dozen men, all nestled like eggs in my crate of shame
i’m 22 and i've learned to close my eyes until they've finished with me
Mar 31, 2017
Mar 31, 2017 at 8:38 PM UTC
I remember my childhood
I remember the occasional bruises
I remember the rare cuts
I remember the tetanus vaccines
I remember the injuries from wood
Shots on the ***
Intra-dermal injections
My father told me
"It is funny when the nurse does that,"
I was young,
I was shy, I still am,
Shy in my own ways.
I am very ticklish and
My lower back is more so,
My dad tricked my fear away,
I would lie stomach facing the bed,
Papa staring into my eyes smilingly,
And the nurse would ***** my ***
I would feel a tingy sensation,
And I would laugh in fear!
Literally — I don't lie.
Nov 5, 2019
Nov 5, 2019 at 11:09 PM UTC
Thought of the fairest hooyo
Is a hue to dab on you.
‘Red’ would tinge a thing or two:
Oily drips on the apple skin.
Cubic glass that sprinkles rays
Mixed with brilliant sparkling smiles.
That you are in white as the sun
Only sieved of scourging warmth.
Afro-brown has joined the queue;
The melon bulb that’s packaged soft.
Mummy’s nurse that props my head:
Food and rest in dermal bronze.
In the night, your colour glows;
Leave me not in colour blind.
Pledging scent that cuddles me,
Shadow not your penal self.
As you peck my lips to sleep
Halfway through some lullaby,
Eyes and cheeks in Snitcher’s love
Just so real in whitish-blue.
May 20, 2022
May 20, 2022 at 5:26 AM UTC
Dug deep I digged this dirt and dragged down dark dermal tissue,
Diamonds in the rough.
Picked and plucked I perused polished pieces of painful porcelain, piercing pockets in my peripheral parts, precious pearls and petals I peeked and pounced.
Bleeding black blood from bored brackets in body's bursting bark,
I grasped golden, gleaming glory. Gazing greedily like I'd gotten God by his good gourd,
I let needles nick nocks into niche nooks and night nothings knap nooses around my neck, my needle in the haystack.
My night, my might, my one of a kind,
My Kim.
May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 5:41 AM UTC
This eyeballs
It pursues you
It bores its tendrils deep beyond any dermal capacity
No matter if a jaunt, stride, or sprint
It is (in) the second person
Can you see yourself?
May 19, 2023
May 19, 2023 at 11:28 PM UTC
Laces Out Bryant J Frye
From nightingale's first call
Through the dawning of the lark
Moist and sodden I did trote
Pedi dermal waterlog
Blanched trenches; faults in thier valleys
Repeating pressure; suffering throughout
Time ever lasting
Constant eternal pace
Synchronizing my gate
Harrowing consternation
Sloppy soppy convaince
No feet would they gaurd today
Quests of mercantil success
Here for taking
Nobel endeavors
Seeking a favor of fortune
Tyche's blessed stare
Focused photon gleam
Sparkling serendipitous sneakers
Dispatched by Victory's wings
Heel clutching
Metatarsal majestic myopathy
Divinely contrived champion
Satin slipers sublime
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 11:40 AM UTC